


i would make you the light of my world

by whyyesitscar



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 08:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20132515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: post-snap, carol has a lot of time to dream. maria is in every one of them.





	i would make you the light of my world

**Author's Note:**

> listen, have i used this song for different fandoms and pairings? yes. will i continue to use it? hell yes, it kills me every time. also this was dashed off very quickly, so excuse any errors i missed in my very light editing. fun fact: this story officially puts me over 700k worth of fanfic written over 11 years, to which i say: what the _fuck._
> 
> title + lyrics from "if i loved you" by delta rae, indubitably one of the best songs ever written.
> 
> enjoy!

_you'd make good money and come home early, _  
_and you'd kiss me and hold me each night. _  
_we would have children and they would be so beautiful,   
_ _and we'd raise them, and all would be right._

/

You’re sick when you realize you love her.

People have said that before and meant it psychologically; when you say it, you mean it physically. Snot is bubbling in your nose and staying there, much to your dismay. Your throat feels like someone stuffed it full of Monica’s teething cookies and never gave you any water to wash them down. There is a constant throbbing in your head and you wonder if it’s possible to live when your heart is in your ears.

Monica’s only been a person for nine months and already she’s taken you down. If you could formulate any kind of feeling, you’d be impressed. You sneeze instead.

Maria absently hands you a box of tissues, the soft kind with lotion that feel weird on your fingers but like heaven to your nose. You scratch out your thanks and she smiles at you, first just in profile but fully when you don’t look away. She pushes a lock of hair behind your clammy ears, chuckling, and pinches your nose when she withdraws her hand.

You love her, irrevocably.

Life has been little else but Maria and Monica for the last year and a half, from the pregnancy to the loose routine you live in now. You worked yourself silly trying to help them—they’ve been a _them_ from the beginning but you’d be devoted either way—because living on a pilot’s salary is hard enough for just one person. Maria always tried to apologize and you let her, in the beginning, when maybe she could make a valid case that you were doing too much.

As the months wore on, you’d never been so certain that you could have been doing more.

But now things are calmer, a little more settled and ordinary. You’re at Maria’s place more than your own, staying over a few nights a week. You’re here for a long stretch now, only because you’re sick and Maria insisted. It is Monica’s fault, after all.

Any grumbling about Maria’s couch is only for show; there is no happier place than any room with Maria and Monica in it. You get morning duty on the days when you stay over—sunrises don’t compare to Monica’s smile at five in the morning.

The couch shifts as Maria reaches for the remote, turning off the tv as the credits roll for _Cagney & Lacey._

“I was watching that,” you grumble.

“Yeah? What happened?” Maria quizzes. “What season is it on?”

“Twelve? That’s a number.”

“Sure. Not the right one, though.”

“It could be one day.”

(You sound a lot less convincing once your words trail off into a wheeze).

“Sounds like someone needs another round of cold medicine.”

“Hell yeah, line me up some shots.”

Maria rolls her eyes and stands up, a challenging glare lingering in her eyes as she waits for one more retort. You have several ready to go (as always) but sincerity wins out in the end.

“Hey.” You reach for her hand, swinging uselessly a few times before she takes pity on you and grabs yours. “Can I tell you something?”

In a fit of terrible timing, Monica cries from the bedroom.

“Wait just one moment,” Maria promises as she jogs off.

“Don’t bring her out here,” you call after her. “She’s too cute and I need to stay mad.”

Maria doesn’t listen to you and comes back holding a drooling Monica, fingers in her mouth and head resting on Maria’s shoulder.

“Oh my god, why don’t I have a camera right now?” you whine, only halfway to actually annoyed. You couldn’t forget this moment if you tried.

“I’ll pick one up tomorrow,” Maria promises, “along with more Robitussin.” She wipes Monica’s hand on her shirt and waves it. Something snaps and you’re sure your heart melts right out of you.

They’re still smiling when Maria turns to dust. You vault off the couch fast enough to catch Monica before she hits the floor.

Maria is a pile of ash before you can even register what happened.

/

It’s happening more and more, even almost five years after the Snap. Thanos isn’t alive anymore but he bleeds into your past, tainting and stealing it. He continues to steal everything from you, even the parts of your memory you thought were safe.

There is more missing from your life than just names on a plaque.

Maria never liked your somber days because you drew inside yourself on purpose. Most people fight sadness with happy things; you fight sadness by burrowing deeper inside it until you punch through the other side.

On your loneliest days, when being near Monica hurts more than it heals, you jump to some quiet piece of the universe and lie on top of your ship wondering what you might have missed over the years. You’ve moved past the time before the crash; it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to because you came back—and were welcomed back, more importantly. But there are months-long absences after your accident, too.

Monica’s called you Mom ever since you came back, insisted on it even when you and Maria told her that not everyone would be okay with it. You’ve kept every message she sent while you were away, replaying each beginning any time it felt like you might not win. (_Hey Mom—Hi, Mom—Mom—Hey, Mom—Did you know that you can probably travel to the moon in under two seconds if you go your fastest; have you ever tried it? Oh, I mean, hi Mom._) More often than not, your wallowing consists of wondering about how many “Hi, Mom’s” you missed.

You imagine a life without powers, without the crash and without S.H.I.E.L.D. How would you have grown if Lawson hadn’t died; how many more years would you have spent in the Air Force? You know you’d still have moved to Louisiana eventually; Maria would want to be close to her parents, for Monica’s sake. For her sake, too, you know, though she wouldn’t admit it right away.

Maybe in a world without Captain Marvel, you could have told her you loved her as soon as you felt it.

You could have raised Monica together, the same way you actually did only with intention this time. On the cold expanse of your ship, you close your eyes and imagine the sun, the delight on Monica’s face the first time she saw the ocean. You still can’t believe that you weren’t bowled over by that memory when you came back. Her smile just about knocked you on your ass the first time.

You dream of quiet Sunday mornings, teaching Monica to ride a bike and giving her all of the things your parents forgot. You wish you were there for the angry times Maria told you about, when Monica railed against unfairness in the world that even her superheroes couldn’t fix. You wish you could have been there for her to yell at, because god knows you deserved at least a little bit of it. But Monica cooled down whenever you came back, and you only got rational, even-keeled conversations. _What a bummer_, Maria always teased, and she was right.

More than anything you dream of her.

Maria is nothing but smiles in your dreams. Running circles around you in basic; full of adrenaline and swagger after posting the top speed for a first flight; drunk and free at Pancho’s. A mix of memories and wishes runs through your mind and you try very hard not to separate them. The weight of your past flattens you and you press right back, soaking into it.

There is no sound in space, but you hear Maria laugh wherever you go.

/

A light melody from your communicator pulls you out of your thoughts. Keeping your eyes closed, you press a button on your wrist to answer.

“Hey, Monica. Planet must be boring if you’re calling me again.”

“Don’t you have a separate ringtone for your wife by now?”

Your eyes shoot open. There is an outline of a hologram at the edge of your vision. You’ve never been more terrified to turn your head and look.

“Bullshit,” you hiss, stalling.

“Baby, I know you don’t want that to be the first word you say to me after five years of nothing.” Still you wait, shaking your head as tears fall fast down your cheeks. “Look at me, Carol,” Maria pleads, so you do.

You’re crying so hard you can barely see her, but god, she’s beautiful.

“How far away are you?” Maria asks softly.

“From you? Never more than a heartbeat.”

Maria rolls her eyes and blushes as much as a hologram can. “Jeez, Carol.”

“Yeah, get used to it; I’ve got a whole lifetime of those bottled up.”

“I was only gone for five years.”

“Oh, I know.” You stand up on the roof of your ship, grinning and running your hand through your hair in a way that always gets Maria. “Listen, I’ve gotta go through a few jump points on the way home and I want you to stay with me the whole time but there’s something I have to do first.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.” You back up to the edge of the ship and crouch into a starting position. “I love you, by the way.”

“Love you, too,” Maria chuckles.

Her words ring in your ears as you take a running start and rocket toward the planet below. You fly loops around it, screaming one long, continuous ‘_Fuck!_’ until your lungs give out.

Maria’s laugh follows you back to the ship and beyond.

/

“Monica’s at the house,” Maria explains. “She filled me in on the important stuff.”

“That’s good.”

“Sounds like there’s still a fight happening in New York. They probably need you to save the world.”

“I waited five years for this. The world can wait a little longer.”

“Yeah? What about me?”

“Give me a second.”

You idle the engine above Earth and open the doors to the loading bay, barely waiting for a sliver of light before you drop through them. You enjoy a few seconds of freefall before the need to fly kicks in, and a second later—you’re home.

Maria is waiting for you in the backyard, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. “Has anyone told you you’re a show-off?” she shouts.

You cross the distance that separates you in record time.

“Have I ever told you you’re beautiful?” you answer, and then you kiss the retort right out of her. Never mind that she’s taller than you, that she’s stronger than you’ve ever been even with your superpowers. You kiss her until you’re both floating, until the only thing keeping her from falling is your love (and your arms).

She presses her forehead against yours when you pull away, her ankles tangling around your feet.

“I don’t have to go,” you whisper.

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m coming right back.”

“Oh, you’d better.”

You kiss her one more time—three more, five more, until she laughs and turns away. “Do you trust me?”

“Every day.”

You drop her with a smile and a wink, letting it linger for a second before you speed into the house and grab Monica, whizzing back to catch Maria before she actually hits the ground.

“I forgot that feeling,” she exhales once you catch her. “Shit, I gotta get used to that again.”

“I am _thirty nine_ years old,” Monica huffs. “Put me the fuck down.”

“Nope! My family’s back, let me have this a little longer.”

You squeeze them both close to your side and shoot upwards, twirling and cheering until their cries of “Carol!” and “Mom!” echo with a little tinge of fear.

They yell at you all the way to the ground but you don’t hear any of it.

Whatever’s waiting for you in New York, you’re going to punch into the fucking sun.


End file.
